


THE PARALLELS THAT SEPERATE US

by orpheusaki



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Dream SMP events, Dream is really going through it, Gen, George is so very sleep deprived, Hurt/Comfort, Implied dnf slash and you'll see why, M/M, Other SMP characters are present, Parallel Universes, Time Travel, University AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:47:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orpheusaki/pseuds/orpheusaki
Summary: "Who the fuck is this?" George's had enough of this stupid attempt at a prank call. He's exhausted, annoyed and has no bloody idea what the hell a Sapnap is — nor does he plan to find out."What — George! George it's me, Dream!""Dream?" George frowns, "I don't know anyone called Dream. Stop calling me.""George wait —"Or;George doesn't believe in fate; or at least, not the way it's painted in disney movies and wattpad fanfiction. That is, however, until he starts receiving phone calls from a stranger called 'Dream' — who lives in a place where pigs are gods and children run countries — and George finds himself beginning to reconsider this whole… fate thing.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 18
Kudos: 145





	THE PARALLELS THAT SEPERATE US

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER!  
> do what you will with this fanfic, i have no restrictions — but DO NOT share to ccs. this is a work of fiction so please treat it as such. this is an alternative universe + the smp; so this is NOT irl shipping; however a romantic slash between the characters is implied. 
> 
> i mainly started this for fun and entirely self indulgent since the plot was just perfect for the smp, but i'm taking a gamble with publishing it! i hope you all love it too.
> 
> please treat everyone with kindness and respect, enjoy!

> **PARALLEL UNIVERSES**
> 
> _ noun (in quantum physics) _
> 
> : a universe theorized as existing alongside our own.

"Dude, your phone's ringing,"

George blinks awake, head darting up from his textbook and up at the tall figure standing ominously at the doorway. It takes a moment for George's eyes to adjust to the sudden lighting, but when he finally focuses and catches Wilbur's pained expression, he winces.

He looks to his left at the vibrating device on the table, grimacing at the annoying ringing that runs through his bedroom but before he can amount enough energy to grab the phone and turn it over to see who's responsible for this, it falls slack against the marked wood.

"Sorry," George sighs, bringing a hand to rub the corners of his eyes, "Did it wake you up?"

Wilbur shakes his head, but his yawn betrays his otherwise believable disposition. He's a lovely bloke, he really is, and George got extremely lucky when he won him as a housemate, and as a close friend. It's just the two of them, and occasionally a third person will fill the spare third room before inevitably dropping out before the second term begins — but no matter!

It's truly a miracle Wilbur's turned out the way he has, given be the chaotic  _ state  _ that is his younger brother, Tommy (Who George, unfortunately, met over the summer) and the slightly scary older brother No-First-Name-Given with _pink_ hair (who he, also, met over the summer — and was pointedly ignored by).

That being said, Phil is lovely, but we digress.

Wilbur looks a little sheepish when George narrows his eyes at the man, but waves him off with a good natured laugh, "Don't worry about it. I needed to pee anyway. But like, man, when are you going to go to bed?"

George's slowly closing eyes fly open again, and with a sudden burst of energy he grabs his phone and flips it over, momentarily startled by the bright light and then immediately horrified at the time that it shows;

_ 04:47 AM _

"What the fuck." He mumbles under his breath, the words coming out like a statement rather than a question.

Wilbur chuckles deeply, nodding once more like this reaction was to be expected before he backs away into the dark corridor and, assumingly, back into the confines of his room, "Good night."

"Night," George manages to reply to his roommate, but he's rather terrified that he's been hunched over his desk for the last six  _ hours  _ staring into the same page of his text book. It had started well, his last minute revision for the dozens of exams he would need to take in the following week; but somewhere along that line he must've fallen asleep.

For a moment he's scared to lean back, wondering if this truly is the end of his spinal cord — and he's only mildly disgusted when his back pops and cracks as he melts his back into his chair, dropping the textbook onto his lap with a tired slump.

Only to  _ immediately _ jump out of his skin when his god-forsaken phone rings  _ again,  _ and he fumbles around in the air like a lunatic before he realises it's sat wriggling pathetically on his desk.

He doesn't even hesitate before grabbing it this time, pressing answer without even reading the name in his haste to prevent waking up Wilbur  _ again _ ,

"Hello?" He gruffs out annoyedly, not even feeling bad for whatever fool is ringing him at five in the morning.

Someone laughs obnoxiously on the other side, and George frowns for a moment, pulling the phone away from his ear to read the display name to figure out who this idiot is. But to his surprise, it's a private number. Which is — given the time and circumstance — a little concerning.

_ "Why do you sound so annoyed?"  _ The stranger asks teasingly, laughing loudly to themself,  _ "You're the one who wasn't picking up your communicator the last three times I called!" _

"I'm sorry, you said my — my communicator?" George asks in confused displeasure, "What the hell is a _communicator_?"

The stranger only laughs harder, and George's expression pulls into one of mortification. Great! He's gone and answered a call  _ from a crazy person!  _ At five in the morning, no less!

_ "You're so weird George,"  _ they gasp through laughter, and George's heart drops straight to his bottom and the phone shakes in his grasp at the shock of hearing his own name,  _ "Where are you anyway? Me and Sapnap are waiting for you by the church.' _

"What the fuck is a  Sapnap ?" George exclaims, exasperated and patience thinning, "Who the fuck are  _ you _ ?"

The stranger scoffs,  _ "Come on George, you'll hurt our feelings if you talk like that. Just hurry up! We were thinking of playing a prank on Skeppy." _

"Skeppy?!"

_ "But we have to be quick before Bad wakes up. Just — just where are you?" _

"Oh my god is this — is this a prank?" George pleads, his patience well and truly flying out the window, "This isn't fucking funny you prick. It's five in the morning and I have a coding exam in —"

_ "What the hell? George, it's like, two in the afternoon, what are you on about? And an exam? Are you playing a game or something —" _

"Who the  _ fuck  _ is this?" George's had enough of this stupid attempt at a prank call. He's exhausted, annoyed and has no bloody idea what the hell a Sapnap is — nor does he plan to find out.

_ "What — George! George it's me, Dream!" _

"Dream?" George frowns, "I don't know anyone called Dream. Stop calling me."

_ "George wait —" _

George hangs up before the person could continue ruining his life any further, the distant thundering of a headache already pounding at the base of his skull from the entire ordeal. Like honestly, he gets it, university students are bored; but  _ seriously  _ — five in the morning? George should have just stopped at college.

He's still frowning down at his phone when Wilbur's head pokes round the door once more, eyebrows furrowed and looking concerned; "Everything alright? You were shouting on the phone."

George smiles apologetically, pocketing the phone and rising to his feet as he stretches his shoulders — deciding to save Wilbur the trouble of a useless story this early in this morning. Besides his head, bones and very  _ soul  _ are aching and if he doesn't collapse against the next flat surface he comes by; he will cry.

"Sorry Will, must've been a wrong number or something. Hey — do you have some paracetamol by any chance?"

**Author's Note:**

> please let me know why you think! thanks for reading <3 see you soon!!


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